


Payback

by Sashidashi



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Castration, Gen, Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashidashi/pseuds/Sashidashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events that recently happened in Sniper's life, it's time he got revenge on that Teutonic bastard of a doctor ...</p><p>Please read 'Gehorchen' before reading this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payback

Sniper eyed Medic through his scope, revenge still on his mind. He was still on top of his game though, clocking the enemy Soldier and Pyro out, stabbing a creeping BLU Spy with his kukri; he wasn’t going to let a silly old thing like revenge get in the way of his work.

“You’re gonna get it, ya bloody quack,” he mumbled to himself, “I’m gonna stuff my boot so far up yer ass gettin’ it out with surgery ain’t gonna help ya.”

It was just like he heard him when Medic looked up to where Sniper was camped at; Sniper no longer looked through the scope and pin pointed Medic in the far distance, that small voice came forward.

_Do no harm … obeyyy …_

“Do no harm,” Sniper flatly said and gave an enemy Demoman a bullet to the head; Sniper snapped out of his weird trance and growled at what just happened. He shouldered his rifle to take aim and fire, however the Announcer just proclaimed a victory for RED; well, that put a damper on his plan.

“Having difficulties?” RED Spy said behind him, lighting a cigarette.

Sniper removed his ray bans and wiped his brow with his forearm. “With wha’?”

“I saw zat you and ze docteur had brief eye contact, before zat you looked ready to kill him.” Spy leaned against the wall facing Sniper’s back. “What stopped you?”

“I … blacked out … I guess … I can’t describe it,” Sniper struggled to explain what happened. “One look, just one bloody, stupid look a-a-and tha’ voice clicked in me ‘ead; I gotta find a way to get rid of it.”

“All I can advise you is to train your brain,” Spy suggested, flicking his cigarette and walking back to base.

Sniper contemplated on this somewhat useable advice while figuring out ways to give Medic a taste of his own medicine, but how to get him there first. An idea popped into Sniper’s head; he pulled a Sydney Sleeper dart from his pouch and let out an amused chuckle.

The next question was should he do it tonight, or wait it out, sort of like a surprise attack. Surely, when he’d take his “meds” he would find himself in Medic’s infirmary, thankfully, though, he asked Spy to give him his actual pills for his kidneys after their palaver last night.

He wasn’t going to risk anything; he had a nice secluded spot by his camper, the trees added cover for what Sniper had in mind. He would have to do it tonight, no questions, and he had the perfect idea of how to get Medic to where Sniper needs him to be. 

Sniper went back to his camper to take a nap before the fun began; however, as soon as he laid down, he couldn’t doze off so easily. His frontal lobe was beginning to throb slightly, and that voice inside spoke again. 

_I am a slave …_

“No … I’m not,” Sniper muttered. “I’m not a slave …”

_I am a slave to my Master … I must serve Medic … I will obey Medic …_

“No … I w-won’t. I am not a slave to him, I’m not a slave, ya hear me?”

_I have no name, I am only a slave …_

“My name … is … fuck, what’s my name?” Sniper fought hard to remember this, how hard had he been affected by this hypnosis to not remember his own name? What did it start with? “Ri … Rich … R-R-Richard … M-Mundy. My name is Richard Mundy from Adelaide, Australia. I’m not a slave, I have free will, and no German twat is gonna make me his pet.”

He repeated his name, his home, and other information to himself till he fell asleep, he slept until it was getting dark out. He felt refreshed and a hell of a lot better than this morning, early afternoon; he made a pot of coffee and poured two mugs, in one he put the concoction from one of his Sydney Sleeper darts into it. 

“Wave goodbye to ya testicles, wankah,” Sniper said as he got out of his camper and made his way to the infirmary.

Medic was looking over the day’s reports when he heard a couple knocks on the door.

“Yes? Come in.”

Sniper poked his head in. “Brought you something,” he said, entering the room. “Thought you might needed this while yer lookin’ ovah the papers, to keep ya awake.” He set the mug down near a pile of folders.

“Herr Sniper,” Medic began, surprise in his voice, “zhis is unexpected. Ve don’t normally see you around here on zhe base; zhis … I … _danke, mein freund_.” Medic took the bait and drank some.

“It’s nuthin’, mate,” Sniper said pulling up a chair, he drank a bit from his mug. “Think I made it a bit strong than usual, I probably put too many grounds in the coffee maker.”

“Ach, zhat’s fine,” Medic assured him, “it is razher gut, I must say.” He chuckled and drank again, he saw Sniper grinning as the gunman drank his own coffee although there was something off about this situation; Medic tried to figure it out, but his head suddenly felt very woozy.

Medic rose from his desk only to fall to the floor like a ragdoll, the last thing he heard before he clocked out was a solitary, gruff chuckle.

Now that Medic was out for a while, Sniper went through Medic’s desk and found the leash and collar, just where Spy said it was in the lower left drawer. Sniper drank the last of his coffee, dumped the rest of Medic’s down the sink, grabbed what he needed and hoisted the German onto his right shoulder. Medic seemed a bit heavy, being so muscular and toned from toting around that pack he carries on the field, but Sniper had lifted heavier things during his life as a tracker.

Sniper had brought Medic to the woods a few feet away from Sniper’s camper where he had built a fire place, subsequently heating a brand in the fire. Sniper started to undress Medic when he saw the German try to fight back, the Sydney Sleeper pulled Medic right back in to unconsciousness; Sniper hauled the nude body over to four pegs staked into the ground and bound Medic’s wrists and ankles. After he had accomplished this, Sniper grabbed the tools he needed to give Medic the most excruciating pain of his life, and waited.

Medic’s head finally cleared up and began to stir, he discovered that he had been staked to the ground and also completely naked for all the stars above him to see. He heard footsteps approaching and saw Sniper’s face looming over him. 

“Wakey wakey, ya Nazi poof,” Sniper sneered; Medic spat in Sniper’s face, Sniper only wiped his face and gave Medic back his saliva, rubbing it on Medic’s cheek. “We’re going to have a great time, you and I.” He slipped the collar around Medic’s neck, subsequently latching the leash on and bringing Medic closer to Sniper’s growling face. “And you’re gonna like it.”

“ _Schaden Sie nicht_ ,” Medic ordered, he saw Sniper was fighting himself. “You vill do no harm unto me. I am you master, _sklave_ , do no harm.”

Sniper’s face finally softened and let go, unhitching the leash from the collar, subsequently removing the collar.

“Now, untie me.” 

Sniper was still for a brief moment before cracking up with laughter; Medic’s brow furrowed, what had happened? Last night, he repeated the new phrase over and over, he was sure those words sunk in to Sniper’s tranced mind; Medic even told him to remember it in waking life. 

“Nah, I don’t think so, doc,” Sniper said after calming his laughter down. “When you took me, you erased my mind of my identity, who I am. I am not a slave; I am Richard Mundy of Adelaide, Australia. I’m a tracker and a skilled assassin, and I’m the man that’s gonna make sure there’s not gonna be another incident like last night ever again.”

Sniper got up and pulled what looked like a pair of pliers that were tucked in his belt, Medic also saw that Sniper was wielding an Australian bullwhip on one hip and the Bushwacka knife on the other.

“Since you use that collar of yours on me as a sign of ownership to you, I’m gonna use my own method, somethin’ I learned from me dad when I was a young bloke.”

He waggled the pliers in his right hand. “Now this here, this is a Burdizzo; it’s a clamp used in castration.” Medic’s eyes widened in terror at the word ‘castration’, “My dad would use it on some of his bulls if he wasn’t using one of them for breedin’.” Sniper straddled Medic, getting on his knees and getting into position. “See, wha’ he’d do was, he’d take the clamp, and he would put it on the bulls testicles like … that.”

Medic let out a horrified scream as the clamp pinched the blood vessels and the vas deferens of his scrotum, he pulled on the stakes that held him. He sputtered out German a hundred miles an hour, tears started to run down his cheeks from the agonizing pain. He made one last final plea before Sniper did anything.

“Do no harm!” he screamed, his pain turned into rage. “You vill do no harm! I had you under my power! I gave you zhe vords, vhy von’t you obey?!”

“A friend once told me, ‘Train your brain’, and I did. I trained it never to listen to your bloody hypnotic triggers, wha’ a load of codswallop that is, hypnosis,” Sniper snorted, reaching for his Bushwacka. “Let’s see here … dad would normally let the testicles to shrivel up into the scrotum, but with you, mate … this is gonna be a different story."

With one hand Sniper grasped the bottom of Medic’s scrotum and with the other started to slice it off with the Bushwacka. More horrified screams filled the night sky as a part of Medic’s manhood was being cut off from his body, his back arched and pulled on his bonds; Sniper held what was Medic’s testicles and tossed it into the bushes, a coyote or a wolf might come by and want to eat it. Sniper released the Burdizzo and fetched needle and thread from the leather pouch his dad used in castration of bulls and bull calves. 

With Medic stitched up, Sniper released the bonds and let Medic try to stand; Medic desperately wanted to sock Sniper in the face, he attempted but was stopped by the crack of a bullwhip.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sniper teased, “I’m not through with you yet, steer. There’s one last thing.”

Steer? Did he just call Medic a steer?

“Get over by that tree,” Sniper pointed to the tree directly behind Medic.

Medic looked behind him and back at Sniper, who cracked the whip again, only this time the cracker made contact with Medic’s chest, sending a sharp sting through his body.

“Get goin’, ya bloody animal.”

Medic said nothing and made his way over to the tree, where his ankles were bound once again and his hands tied around the tree. Again he felt the whip strike him two times as he slowly walked over, thankfully it stopped when Sniper tied his bonds up. Unfortunately a few more came after that as he felt rain after rain of lashes, Medic held in his yelps and failed to hold back his tears of agony. 

“All right, ya dumb brute,” the Australian said behind him, “time to show your ownership to me: a good ol’ fashioned branding.”

How dare that bushman treat Medic like this, calling him a steer and castrating him like he was cattle. Damn that Spy, damn that disgusting Frenchman to hell; he was the one who brought Sniper back to his normal self, it was him who freed Medic’s slave from the sexual oppression that Medic forced upon Sniper. He had to beg Sniper to kill him and let the respawn do its work, bringing him back along with his manhood; he couldn’t go on like this.

Sniper grabbed the brand out of the fire, it burned a yellow-y orange and made his face glow with its light. His dad gave it to him on his 16th birthday; the brand was a backwards D connected to an M, stands for Dick Mundy, and he hoped to use it one day. But oddly enough, this was second time Sniper used it; Sniper had a horse that he’d ride on his trapping trail to see the day’s catch, he used his brand for the first time on that horse, and wanted to brand his own cattle with it, but he soon turned into a tracker and had no use of it, until now.

Without any hesitation, Sniper approached the battered man tied to the tree and branded Medic’s left buttock. A pained growled, followed by a moan and a scream rang in Sniper’s ears; the brand came off and was put in a bucket of water. Sniper grabbed another bucket and the water was tossed onto Medic’s body. The cold water contacted the open wounds, causing Medic to hiss and tensed his posture against the tree.

Medic was getting exhausted from the blood loss and pain that he was enduring, as Sniper removed the bonds, Medic fell to the ground and curled into a fetal position. Again another cold splash of water made its way to Medic’s battered body, making him shiver; a blanket soon covered him and his clothes were dropped in front of him. 

“Get dressed,” Sniper said walking back to the fire. “I’m done with you.”

“Herr … Sniper,” Medic moaned through chattering teeth, not moving an inch. “If it’s not … too much trouble, could you perhaps do me a favor?”

There was a pause of silence, footsteps and a face came into his view. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

“I vant you to … kill me and let me go srough respawn. I don’t vant to go on like zhis, ve are equal now.”

Sniper averted his eyes to contemplate, he finally reached a decision. “All right,” he assured, “I’ll do it. But remember this, two months of you draining my mind, plus last night and last month accounted for what I just did to you. Imagine if I did this to you every night, Doc, for three months. I’m basically sparing your life in the future, don’t forget it. If you do it again, next time it won’t be so easy. You’re gonna live the rest of your life with no balls, ya hear me?”

Medic gradually nodded his head, Sniper grabbed his Bushwacka and plunged it into Medic’s heart; the body went limp and disappeared. Sniper cleaned up the area, putting out the fire and went back to his camper for a wonderful night’s sleep, not regretting a single action he did. It had to be done, there was no other alternative.

Medic woke up in respawn, back in his regular clothes sans his white coat and proceeded back his room at base. It was when he slipped into his pajamas, that he noticed something that respawn didn’t take care of.

Medic still had Mundy’s brand on his left buttock, why couldn’t respawn take care of it? Annoyed by the situation, Medic would have to use his Medigun in the morning before battle to get rid of it; thankfully he didn’t have to look at it except in the mirror, but he was glad that he would never have to look at that horrid mark again.

He still remembered Sniper’s words.

_Imagine if I did this to you every night, Doc, for three months. I’m basically sparing your life in the future, don’t forget it._

Three months of having him castrated and branded did not sound like fun to Medic, but Sniper showed something Medic did not have, and that was mercy. Sniper’s mercy made Medic a little more wary of Sniper and what he could do to him; as the Australian told him, next time it won’t be so easy if Medic attempted to hypnotize Sniper again. He didn’t want to relive through this event, so he was thankful for things like mercy.

But there was a feeling deep down inside Medic that liked having Sniper’s mark on him, and he never did remove it.

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this last night and wrote until 4 in the morning. I've decided to post it in its entirety as I didn't want to disrupt the flow of the story, but that ending ... I leave it to you to decide what happens from then on.
> 
> My personal favorite part is the line "Wave goodbye to ya testicles, wankah." I laughed for like a minute on that.
> 
> And Sniper's dad being a rancher is my own headcanon, I figured Mundy seemed like he once belonged to a ranching lifestyle as a youngin'.
> 
> Always appreciate comments or suggestions of improvement, critiques.


End file.
